Ellis runs ahead of me in all his four-year-old boy vivacity. As I lumber along with the baby on my back, lugging our little bag full of snacks and water bottles, I watch him, waiting for the moment, just before he disappears around the corner, when he'll turn around and make eye contact. I wave him down signing WAIT FOR MOMMY! but he's already plopped down on the park bench and signs WAIT. As I get close, up he pops again, and I watch the back of his head bounce, jump, and dash along.

Cut to later. Ellis is picking up his fifteen-month-old brother. Again. He adores his brother, but sometimes his love is a bit too lavish. I kneel down, fully intending to affirm his love, but to talk with him about more appropriate ways to express it, while firmly prying his arms away from the baby, who is screaming his head off. Ellis drops to the ground, flailing and squeezing his eyes shut.

Four years ago, when we learned that our brand new baby was born profoundly deaf, we knew our experience as parents would be different. We got a kick out of being able to vacuum in the same room as a sleeping baby. We cheered at his vocabulary of ASL at such a young age. We stomped the floor to get his attention.

However, I feel like it's only been this year that I've really begun to get a glimpse at what it means for Ellis to be deaf, and deaf in our hearing family. I've started to see how he settles himself socially. Personally, I'm starting to see the particular ways I fall short as a parent. True, nobody is a perfect parent, but I'm speaking of the ways in which I struggle as a Hearing Parent of a Deaf Kid.

The primary aspect of this unique experience is communication. We are settling into the bilingual dance between spoken English and ASL. Two years ago Ellis got a CI. He's doing pretty well with it, his receptive language is stronger than expressive. I can talk to him without signing through the simple aspects of our routine and that works out fine. He doesn't like to wear it at home. We don't press him to, but, I will admit, I may or may not have bribed him with chocolate milk to wear it at home sometimes. He wears it at school or usually any other time when we're not home. He is most comfortable with ASL, and that is the language we use with him primarily, even if we are speaking, too. This is especially true in discipline situations, where I need to use whatever language we have to its fullest, and since ASL is his preferred language, that is what I use.

From the beginning, we've pursued our education in ASL vigorously. We've taken classes, lived in the dictionary, had Deaf Mentors. But we are far from native signers. We get by. We can communicate fairly effectively with our four-year-old: we can read books in ASL and talk to him about the world around us.

I have found lately, though, that my ASL is starting to fail my parenting needs. It's taken me awhile to figure out what the matter is, because I know the signs and how to use them, but somehow I'm failing to communicate. I think there is a Deaf presence that I don't have. I'm not really sure how to describe it. A way of using my body that transcends the actual signs, that enters into his space, meets it, communicates with it. Connection is a key part of my parenting philosophy and to be so defeated by the basic communication that I need to make it happen is beyond frustrating. It has deeply discouraged me in these past few months especially.

It's not all a total big Fail. We do get along, after all. We do connect. I give him as much physical presence as I can. I give him as much language as I can. And we are a happy family. But sometimes I look at my hearing friends with their hearing kids--parents and children who speak the same native language--and wonder at the ease of it all. To just talk, effortlessly.

He shuts his eyes. Bam. Communication stops. He glances away from me, focusing back to his play. Communication stops. Sure, he might pick up more than I think peripherally. But it is unnerving to have the eye contact lost. The conversation could just be small talk about his play, but it is lost mid-sentence. Is my signing that weak? Do I not have the persona to indicate that I'm talking to you? Ellis seems to think that I can only hear him if I'm looking at him. He screams my name while I am driving until I glance back giving him the visual acknowledgment that I hear him. (Dang! We need a mirror!) He also thinks that if I don't acknowledge him the split second he says my name that I must not hear him, so he repeats it at blood-curdling volumes, until I can turn to him. I'm rambling a little. This summer has been a roller-coaster. My nerves feel shot from his screaming my name, though it's getting a little better.

He's changing socially. We were at a birthday party with all hearing kids, kids he's known since infancy. Another guest, another little boy, ran up to Ellis, hi! what's your name? Ellis didn't know what he said. How much do I step in to intervene? Do I translate for E? Let it go and watch him slip into isolated play? Do I go through the conversation for the bazillionth time? oh, hi. His name is Ellis. He can't hear you, so we talk with our hands. can you say 'hi' like this? Some kids get into it. Some feel awkward and back away. Bless the little British kid at the park the other day who made fast friends with E despite his curious quality.

How do I balance it all? As a mother I want to protect him from all this. I want to make a world that fits him perfectly. I don't want to have to teach him how to negotiate through languages and worlds. I wish I had more to offer him. Yet at the same time, he's doing a pretty good job. Sometimes, I just have to stop and let go. Let him run ahead, trusting that he'll turn around. After all, I am not in control. The God who gave me Ellis also has Ellis perfectly in His arms.

Yesterday was the first day of the new school year for Ellis. Since we've been involved with school since his first year (early intervention), it seems old hat to us now, even though he is only four. But he moves up to a new classroom. He's in the class with the kids with the most auditory access. And yesterday he came home signing so much. I think we all missed school.

I'll admit, it's been a rough couple of weeks. Not always knowing what to do with my super creative, active boys. I feel the language gap so strongly sometimes. My ASL can barely keep up with my parenting needs. School gives all a little more structure to our day, outlet for creativity, satisfies Ellis's social needs that I can't satisfy, and a few hours of peace at home. I actually *gasp* got the living room clean with no other major household disasters yesterday. It was awesome.

And so my brilliant, confidant, sweet boy ventures forth on another year!

where i found Marlowe the morning he turned 15 mos. he's obsessed with trying to get onto the table now.

My friend Chandra took these beautiful pics of Marlowe last Sunday.

Marlowe likes music.
The first movie is M grooving to the music at an outdoor kids' concert at the arboretum. The second is M singing along to some Beethoven. (don't worry. i'm holding onto the chair)

I've been wanting to do a little post about Marlowe since he turned 15months a week ago. But well, let me just tell you something.

Last Tuesday, a week ago today, he turned 15 mos. I heard him bustling about in the kitchen, assumed he was at his usual chores of emptying all the cupboards of tupperware and pots and pans. He's so helpful that way.

I walk in the kitchen, and he's actually standing on the kitchen table eating a bag of blue corn chips.
I'm pretty sure Ellis could only walk for about two weeks when he was that age.

I spend all day making sure Ellis is not hauling Marlowe around unwillingly. Making sure Marlowe isn't crawling up some scalable delight.

The rest of the day revolves around Marlowe's favorite word: NAH.
It means, "I want that." He says it all day and points to everything, because basically he wants everything. He will sign and say PLEASE! NAH, PLEASE!!! It's so nice, really. It's just nearly impossible to satisfy.

Some other words are dog, woof-woof, duck, choo-choo, Daddy, Ellis (yuh-yih), hot (accompanied with a blow), please, thank-you, all-done, night-night, and others. It's just hard to think of what they are with NAH resonating in my ears. He signs them all, too.

He's a pleasantly demanding child. NAH!!!

While I took a quick shower during Marlowe's morning nap, Ellis dismantled his room.

I should step back. A few days ago Chris remarked that Ellis had not made a fort in the new bunk bed yet. I pointed out that the bunk bed already is kind of a fort. So when I saw Ellis amassing pillows and blankets before I got into the shower, I smiled thinking now he was building his fort.

When I got out, every toy box had been dumped into the bottom bunk. ALL the toys were in the bottom bunk. All the furniture was moved. And the rug balled up halfway. He was making a room fort. These Joneses. They don't do things by half. He was so focused that it took me nearly an hour to pry him away for park day.

When we got back from the park and hot outdoor play, I plopped him in front of the TV to cool off, and I set about putting his room back together. I actually rearranged it a little bit. And put all the toys back. And vacuumed. It took 2 1/2 hours to undo 10-15mins worth of destruction. But it's roomier now, and I wouldn't have rearranged it if he hadn't done that. While I cleaning, he TP'd the couch. Then scooped up all the toilet paper, put it in a plastic bag, and filled it with water.

Just reporting facts here.

We went to IKEA for dinner.

The day we left New Orleans, and the most fabulous place we've ever lived, in 2005, our dearest friends left, too. Like, we pulled out three hours after they did. They moved to Maine, we moved to Philly. When we first visited them in 2007, I began to wonder if we got the short end of the stick. We've gone back every year, and every year, we have to pry ourselves away from Maine, scheming of ways to never have to leave. This year was like every other year, crawling through amazing amounts of traffic all the way up to Maine, wearing ourselves out with activity and fun with friends while there, and crawling back home, cursing the Massachusetts Turnpike in the summer.

This year we kicked things off by spending our first night camping in Salisbury, Mass. Right on the coast. At a state park where the Merrimack River meets the Atlantic Ocean. Due to aforementioned crazy amounts of traffic, we didn't get there in time enough to enjoy as much as we had hoped. But we did have a good time riding bikes at dusk, roasting hotdogs and marshmallows, curling up in our cozy tent (only I'm not sharing my sleeping bag with Marlowe any more, because I was freezing), and playing at the beachside playground.

Because of our camping plans, not only did we pack our Honda Civic with all that a family of four needs for a week's vacation, but also a tent, extra food, three sleeping bags, and three camp chairs. In addition, to the equipment for our new family hobby, biking. Read: four helmets, a baby bikeseat, three bikes. Yes, we're that good. We got it all in, with a little room to spare.

We had hoped to have some beach time in the morning, but it took us awhile to pack up again and get all the bikes situated, and then we were hungry, so we found a great place in Salisbury for breakfast. And then we decided that it was getting late, and we didn't really want to deal with so much sand with so much travels yet ahead of us. So we didn't have a lot of beach time there. I did walk around the night before, and enjoyed the magical effect of the full moon over the water. It was so beautiful.

We decided to amble up the bit of the New Hampshire coast. And encountered a tremendous amount of beach traffic, because I had no idea the extent of the sandy beach there. But once we got past that, we had a beautiful drive along the coast, including a pit stop at the state park where my friend got married two weeks ago. We popped back up to I-95 at Portsmouth and went a little while 'til we got to Portland, ME, which I love.

Last year we stopped at Deering Oaks Park and had such a great time, that we planned to stop there again, though this time we missed the farmer's market. They have a great water play area for the kids, and we ended up staying for almost three hours. It was just a perfect day.

From Portland, it was just a couple hours more, and the kids slept after all their fun. We had a great reunion with our friends, the Curlyheads. Enjoyed a wonderful Sunday with them. And Monday began our week o' crazy vacation madness.

Monday morning: bike ride through woods. about 4miles. Chris, me with Marlowe in baby seat, and Russell and oldest Curlyhead.
Monday afternoon: trip up to lake. After we waited for a band of rain to pass we enjoyed swimming, canoeing, mud digging, and coffee sipping.
It was Marlowe's first ride in a boat. He did not enjoy it. I think he enjoyed the lifevest about as much as he enjoys the bike helmet, except the boat doesn't go fun and fast to distract him from it.

Tuesday. Same biking crew plus Ellis headed out to Acadia National Park. We rented a tagalong bike attachment (and bike, since it didn't fit on C's) in Bar Harbor, and biked around Lake Eagle on the old carriage trails in Acadia. Probably about 10mi. There were a couple crazy uphill moments, and a couple of awesome downhill moments. Chris and I wonder how it would be without the accompanying weight. I'm beginning to think that I'm going to need to train for next year's vacation.

Marlowe does pretty well in the babyseat, though he begins to fuss if we're going too slowly for too long (like for a long uphill), and cheers for fun, fast downhills. In other words, Marlowe likes to go fast.

And then since we were in Acadia anyway, we had to drive around at soak in the scenery. We stopped for awhile to throw rocks in the water, poke around tidal pools, and look for sea glass.

Wednesday. I declared a Day Off. Even though I ended up taking a little hike on the trail behind our friend's house. But that was mostly to hang out with C and get M to fall asleep on my back. Our friends have four kids, the youngest of whom--and the only boy--is just a couple months older than Ellis, so there was plenty of playing and fun.

Thursday. Chris and I took all 6 kids (their four, our two) up to the top of a mountain and down again. There's a great mountain, Great Pond Mountain, that I climbed two years ago. It's about 1100ft, and is manageable for the young kids, though they did put forth a valiant effort to manage. (Marlowe was on my back.) About two-thirds the way up, the vegetation dwindles to mostly conifers and shrubs, including the Maine wild blueberry. So we had to keep stopping to pick blueberries. Marlowe thought this kind of hiking suited him just fine. The view from the top is incredible. We can see over towards Acadia, the Penobscot Bay and river, various mountains and hills and islands dotting the landscape. And, our favorite swimming hole just at the foot of the mountain which received our hot, sweaty bodies, just as soon as we could hike back down the mountain. This was Ellis's first mountain summit!

Craig Pond has got to be one of the best swimming spots. The water is always perfectly refreshing, not too cold. It's so clear. It's called a pond, but really it's more like a small lake. There are many canoeing and kayaking and fishing on it. The kids catch frogs. It's absolutely delightful. We go every year. I think Ellis remembered it this year, because as soon as he got there he asked where the frogs were. He promptly caught his first frog and lovingly befriended it for the rest of the afternoon.

On Friday we knew we had to go home. Though it took a tremendous amount of willpower not to stay another day. I think the drive home was a little less hectic for not being on a Saturday, though the traffic was still thick.

We had such a good time visiting with our friends, who took such good care of us. It was a refreshing time, even though we wore ourselves out a bit. (After all, one really isn't going to rest on vacation with little kids anyway.) We are already dreaming of next year.

p.s. It's a good thing I uploaded every last stinkin' picture onto Flickr through iPhoto, because my hard drive crashed yesterday.
You can view the whole set here.

We're outtie, folks!

July included two weddings. Both made possible by the internet.
I did music for the first. A friend from church.
The second was for Sarah, my old college buddy. I drove to New Hampshire with Marlowe and Elmo DVDs in the back on Saturday. It took me 7 hours. I drove back after the wedding on Sunday. It took me 10 hours. The bulk of which was spent between New Haven, CT and my house outside Philly (a total of 170mi). Thankfully, there was a handy IKEA to stop at for dinner.

My sister came for a week. She taught me how to knit. I am freakishly excited to add this skill to my crafty skill set. especially since it means that the cool yarn store is now open to me.

I can't keep track of all we do. I do know that in a week, I went to IKEA so many times, Ellis can now read the word IKEA. Seriously. If he sees it printed on some random piece of paper, he knows what it is. He can also read the word "zoo". His class went to the zoo, and now he recognizes the word in a book. Coincidence that these words are also fingerspelled. *grin*

I sewed. Adorable vacation pants for the boys. Can't wait to show you.

We have deaf friends in town. I love hanging out with people that can talk to my son.

I'm losing my mind. But vacation begins on Friday. And we will go to Maine. Vacationland. I will travel the same road I did two weeks ago. We will bring our bikes and little bags for sea glass.

I'm sorry if you've written me and I didn't write back. Perhaps when I find my mind, I can write to you something cogent.

Yesterday we went down to the children's hospital (CHOP) again for Ellis's two year evaluation and mapping. Today marks two years since his activation of his cochlear implant. He wears a Cochlear Freedom on his right ear.

Ellis is interesting. I think we all expected him to really get into his implant, but he hasn't so much. He's not an auditorally-inclined person. I really wasn't sure what to expect at his appointments, because compared to some CI kids who have had implant(s) as long as he has, he might not be doing as much as they are. I will say, though, personally, we don't "need" him to be doing that, you know? He's bilingual. And he rocks ASL. So, for having a deaf child, we're doing pretty well in the language-as-a-whole category. I don't feel defeated or discouraged because he's not indistinguishable from a hearing child.

We met with his former speech therapist, who has switched to part-time following the advent of her cute baby. It was so great to see her again!! Ellis was excited to play with Rebecca again. He often asks for her if he sees that we're heading towards center city. She was mostly in eval. mode. Receptively he's doing really great. Right on target. Expressively, though, well, put it this way: if he doesn't sign, too, I have no idea what he's saying. She's hoping to squeeze him in for a few sessions to help him with articulation.

After lunch, we saw Ellis's audiologist again. Ellis has had mixed experience in the hearing booth, so I'm usually a little nervous. He's never been a fan of the conditioned play (where they hold a block to their ear and then put it in the bucket when they hear something). So this time we tried to do it like a big boy, just raise your hand if you hear something. He loved that! The audiologist got a pretty good idea of what he's hearing with his implant. We talked some and he fiddled with the programming on the implant.

I've been nervous, because Ellis doesn't always want to wear his CI, which is fine, mostly. On the one hand, if he's been listening for awhile and he's tired, that's fine. But to just kind of not wear it, like not wanting to wear shoes, I'm a little more reticent, because consistent stimulation will provide him with the most benefit. So we do a lot of off and on and off and on. He's cool at school, but not so much at home, etc. I wasn't sure what they would say when we went in to his evaluation.

I must say, that we've got to be the luckiest bi-bi family in this country. Seriously, I love our hospital! I love our peeps!! I was explaining to the audiologist that Ellis is making progress, but he's no CI wunderkind or anything. But the audiologist was so encouraging: Ellis is the measure of his own success, and he's doing great! In other words, don't compare him to other kids, he's learning in his own way, in his own time, and that's great success for him. He's definitely getting great auditory benefit from the CI. I'm so happy that our both Ellis's school and his team of hearing professionals see Ellis as a whole Deaf person with a variety of skills, talents, and successes.

Over the past several months, my thoughts sometimes wander to the topic of higher education, specifically, how technology may (will?) shape how the institutions of higher education. Will the structures at the university level be impacted by technology and what will this look like? I find this a fascinating topic. Partly because I'm marginalized by the existing structure: mother of two young children. The university is a crazy structure with vestiges of medievalism and a male, leisure class that don't fit with today's high-paced, egalitarian world.

I don't think we'll see an overnight change of the problems of the tenure track system, but I do think we'll gradually see interesting developments in the use of technology. First, I think having so much information at our fingertips will change the nature of research topics and how they're presented. So much more information can be digested in a single sitting today than could be even just five years ago. Different kinds of topics could be explored more easily, from one's home computer connected to high-speed internet perusing digital images and downloading sound files, than could be when one had to travel to each individual library and plunk out sound bits on the keyboard in the practice rooms, trying to imagine the keyboard as chant.

Secondly, I think technology effects who can play. With more information more readily available, more people can play in the pool, so to speak. One of my best friends submitted her dissertation this spring with 15mo twins playing at her feet. She will readily admit that this was not possible without the internet. Even four years ago, I found this true while working on Wretched Thesis. If I couldn't take digital images of the manuscript I was working on and then perused Google Scholar by night, there's no way I could've written what I did (but then maybe the world would've been a happier place) (kidding!) (sort of). All this to say, people with obligations that keep them from committing themselves 100% body and soul to the academic institution now have a fairer chance than before to participate. That's not to say that it will be fair when they get there, but at least they chances they didn't have.

The last effect that I want to talk about at the moment is more ambiguous. It has to do with classes. I was chatting with an middle-aged professor recently, who, face it, probably is not on Facebook. He was bemoaning technology, seeing the future of the internet and the classroom as simply those dreadful online classes. I agree. One cannot simply airlift the classroom lecture format into a online format. And sometimes that happens.

So what can this look like?
I don't like to think of losing the personal interaction of the classroom, the intimacy that is so special between teacher and students and students with each other. At the same time, though, I will admit that I have a few online friends whom I have never met, but who i consider to be some of my closest friends. So maybe being personal, coram persona, isn't necessary.
One possible solution is the model of shorter bursts of times of higher intensity could be used. The one-week seminar, where everyone holes up for a week and then emerges experts. Those experiences are exhausting, wonderful, and intensely gratifying. Students could work on their own, communicating with the prof electronically, for several weeks, and then have a focus week where it all came together.
There's also a scenario where students could participate in real time conversations via their individual webcams.
There's message boards, blogs, online reading discussions.
All these things are being used already in some cases.
And all these scenarios begin to diminish the necessity of geographical location.

It's like Thomas Friedman said, the world is flat. Friedman quotes the Indian executive, "[computers] created a platform where intellectual work, intellectual capital, could be delivered from anywhere. It could be disaggregated, delivered, distributed, produced, and put back together again--and this gave a whole new degree of freedom to the way we do work, especially work on an intellectual nature..." (pg. 7) Friedman's executive is mostly talking about the computer industry, hardware, software, engineering. Why can't the intellectual community of the academy take similar advantage?

In the brave new world of the socially networked higher academy, you could take a class with a professor in NY and in LA at the same time. You could start a career and build on it sooner. The out-of-control student loan problem would be erased, because school wouldn't cost so much. Imagine if universities networked you with jobs and education at the same time. College is fun, but it is an unnatural environment and leaves you high and dry and in deep debt (unless you are supremely lucky) when you're done. Graduate school? more debt. And, if you're in the humanities, probably not a job.

It could also solve the problem of dysfunctional graduate departments. Advisors who don't advise and whatnot. Because a student could choose anyone in the world. Professors would have to market themselves a bit. Checks and balances would build themselves into the system. Merit would matter. Finally!

Now, the only question remains, how to make money at this? corporate sponsorship for their future work force? But then where does that leave the medievalists? and the moms? we do need to eat after all.